


Unpresidential

by FlyingDutchy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Chancellor Lexa, F/F, First Daughter Clarke, german lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingDutchy/pseuds/FlyingDutchy
Summary: Lexa hadn't known she had a type until she read about the guests for the G20 summit in Amsterdam. One look and the 30-year young Chancellor of Germany knew that 26-year old Clarke Griffin, stepdaughter of the US president, must be hers.





	Unpresidential

She was everything she shouldn't want. But from the moment she saw her in the flesh, there on top of the stairway coming down from the aircraft, she knew she must have her.

It was the G20 Summit in Amsterdam, and Lexa Holzmann, Chancellor of Germany, was welcoming their newest arrivals together with the other leaders of the world's most influential nations. It was a surprisingly warm day for the small country of the Netherlands, so it was decided to receive the arriving members on the airstrip. It was a golden opportunity for excellent photographs and publicity.

Their most recent arrivals had just stopped on the tarmac. In front of them was possibly the most expensive aircraft in the world: Air Force One. On board were the president of the United States of America, together with his family.

The first person to exit the aircraft and wave towards the hundreds of cameras was president Marcus Kane with his wife Abigail, Abby, Kane on his arm. They looked radiant, like they hadn’t just spent almost eight hours on a flight across the Atlantic. Then came their only daughter, from the First Lady's previous marriage, Clarke Griffin. If the first couple was beautiful, Lexa thought that Clarke was positively breathtaking.

Despite her preparation, her mouth ran dry and she tried to swallow at the same time, resulting in an unpleasant feeling in her mouth. This contrasted heavily with the pleasant feeling rising in her stomach.

You see, she had done her mandatory reading a few days ago. That was when the chancellor of Germany found out that she had a type. She had never concealed her sexuality and had always known she liked women, but just glimpsing her picture was enough to distract her from reading anything related the the president and his wife. Instead, she had consumed about everything there was to know about the blonde.

The first person to greet the newcomers was the prime minister of the Netherlands, because his country was hosting the summit. Lexa heard him speak impeccable English, but with a clear Dutch accent. China's president was next, followed by Russia's, both of them did not desire to speak English and chose to communicate through their translators.

Lexa saw Clarke shake hands with the world's leaders. The blonde seemed confident, but Lexa could see it was well practiced confidence. Introductions were not necessary, everyone was well prepared. Clarke listened to something they said. She smiled, she nodded, said something in return.

Lexa almost created her first scandal right there: forgetting to greet the president of the United States. She had still been focused on Clarke's interaction with Russia's president when she felt a nudge in her back. Grateful for her chief of staff Anya Bauer, she held out her and and gave Marcus Kane a firm handshake.

“Hello again, Marcus. Did they let you play with her?” She flicked her eyes towards the aircraft. Lexa had met the man once, when he was a senator and she was minister of foreign affairs. They had one thing in common: flying. Before her introduction into politics, Lexa joined the air force as it was tradition in her family. Her parents’ untimely death put an end to that career and she entered politics. As a result, she retained a passion for anything aviation, and flew regularly in small aircraft.

“It's mostly automated these days. They didn't even let me pretend.” The president of the United States laughed.

Lexa then turned to the woman on his arm. “Marcus has been batting above his league. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abby.” Abby laughed at her bad attempt at humor, but it was a laugh shared by her husband and Lexa knew them to be genuine. The president and the first lady moved to the next president, the president of France.

“Gutenmittag, Bundeskanzlerin.” She heard in impeccable German. Her eyes widened in surprise, she turned towards the source. With an arm held out in greeting, Clarke Griffin stood right in front of her. The moment their hands touched, her perfectly practiced response flew out of the window.

“Ein schönes und kluges Mädchen.” Out came the words and she couldn’t take them back. “Entschuldigung. Wie war Ihr flug?” Yes, ask about how her flight was, maybe she should ask about the weather next?

She saw Clarke stutter a bit, and then she responded in English. “I- uh- am sorry, but this was my ‘ich bin ein berliner’ moment, and that was all the German I knew.” Lexa looked at the sheepish smile on the blonde’s face.

“I’m sorry, your German pronunciation was excellent so I responded my language automatically.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s sheepish smile grew to a full smile. “So. What did you say?”

Lexa was temporarily distracted by the beautiful smile, so she took a second to respond. “It might be better if you don’t find out.” Only now did she let go of the hand, as they had both forgotten that the handshake had ended. There was a reluctance with letting go, and Lexa could almost swear it was not just from her side.

She then nodded her head sideways, to indicate that Clarke was holding them all up. “Oh- oh. I’d better move along. Will I see you tomorrow?” Her surprise must have been showing, because Clarke elaborated. “At the _Rijksmuseum_?” She butchered that Dutch word, and Lexa couldn’t contain a snicker.

“Yes, you will.” She smiled.

She’s fucked.

\---

Lexa had been to the _Rijksmuseum_ before, despite not being that interested in art. However, her research had indicated that a certain someone was. She was speaking to the Russian and French president while waiting in the lobby for their party to be completed. Her eyes flicked to the entrance whenever a new arrival came through the door.

Then the president of the United States entered, and joined the conversation. Lexa hoped her disappointment did not show on her face, the First Daughter - she knew that was not her official title -  had not come with her father. When it became clear that Clarke would not be joining her father, Lexa joined in the small talk. Small talk that discussed anything but politics.

Suddenly, a certain raspy voice reached her ears, but not at all from the direction of the entrance. Instead, she saw the museum director walk towards them, with a certain blonde in tow. Clarke had been talking to the man but she had shut up when the director had reached the guests.

“Mr. President,” the director started to speak to Marcus Kane. “Your daughter has a healthy taste for art.”

Marcus laughed. “What you mean to say is: she managed to sneak by your security to take her time looking at the paintings.”

Lexa saw that Clarke looked anything but apologetic. “There are just so many masterpieces on display here. This tour could never do them justice.”

The Russian president then joined in. “If you find art fascinating, you should also come to the Hermitage in St. Petersburg.” He now spoke without in English, which everyone knew he was fluent at. There were no cameras here so there was no need to keep up pretenses. “Or at least visit the branch they have here in Amsterdam.”

Clarke managed to deflect the invitation without committing to anything. A skill any politician had.

“Since everyone has arrived, we would like to commence the tour of the biggest museum in the Netherlands. Many of the Dutch masters…” Lexa tuned the museum director out. She glanced at the blonde, who also was not listening but instead took her time studying certain paintings. Often she studied the ones that were skipped by their guide.

Lexa found herself trailing as well. She watched the blonde watch the paintings. The Chancellor knew she had a duty to perform small talk with her international colleagues, but something held her in place. Right when she had gathered the strength to move on, the girl left behind looked up and their eyes connected. “Hi.”

“Gutenmorgen, Fraulein Griffin.” She said with a glint of mirth, mocking her attempts at speaking German from the previous day.

“Clarke.” Lexa looked at ther questioningly. “It’s not Griffin. I’m Clarke. Griffin is - was - my mother.” From the dossiers she had read on Clarke, Lexa had found out that the you girl had almost created a political scandal when she had kept her father’s name, instead of taking Kane’s like her mother. Lexa had watched a video, don’t ask her why she looked the interview up on youtube, where Clarke was asked if she did not like the presidential nominee. Her response had impressed Lexa: “I find it astonishing that people try to spin the love I still feel for my father - Jake Griffin - into hatred for my stepfather. Marcus makes my mother very happy, something that I could not have imagined four years ago. That is more than enough for me.”

“Clarke, then.” Lexa tried the name on her lips, deciding that she liked the sound. “Come along then, Clarke. We’d better not be left behind.” She guided the blonde back towards the group. Still, they were last in line, with a decent gap between them and the rest. Clarke was her private tour guide, supplying her with details that she knew about each of the paintings.

Lexa found watching her speak more beautiful than the paintings she was talking about. She remembered a conversation that she had with Anya yesterday.

_“Don’t create an international incident.” Anya looked exasperated. Lexa tried to feign ignorance, but her campaign manager slash assistant slash best friend was not having it._

_“I- I can’t help it. She’s my type.” Lexa was only thirty, single, in the prime of her life. Youngest Chancellor to be elected. And a woman. And openly gay - though she did not make it a point in her campaign._

_“You don’t have- never before-” Anya seemed very surprised. “Look, you could fancy_ almost _anyone else. Just not the daughter of the president of the United States.”_

_Lexa knew Anya was speaking the truth. And she had decided to at least try to contain herself._

She had given up on that pretty quickly though. Lexa didn’t even know if Clarke was into women, her past relationships had all been men. This could go wrong in so many ways.

“... and the portraits, while not his most famous works, are still used to study his creative use of lighting the paintings in ways that reality did not. It was revolutionary at the time, and many tried to copy it unsuccessfully.” Clarke continued about a Dutch painter, who had a massive centerpiece on the wall. “You can see how he lights up certain elements parts of the image, but it's inconsistent with the rest of - I’m boring you.”

“No - not at all.” Lexa responded quickly. “In fact, I love art.” Then she saw a dangerous glint in Clarke’s eyes. The blonde pointed to a random painting on the wall.

“Who painted that one?” Lexa looked at it.

“Rembrandt?” She asked.

“No - it’s a Vermeer.” When Lexa asked how she knew, Clarke launched into an explanation. “It starts with the subject, a seemingly mundane situation inside a Dutch household, the clothing and colors indicate the mid-seventeenth century…” Lexa listened as Clarke pointed out various elements and styles.

“... or you could open any history book and you would know this famous painting of the milkmaid. Which is why you knew it was a Vermeer.” Clarke said, and a triumphant laugh rose from the girl’s throat as Lexa did not deny it. “So why did you pretend that you didn’t?”

Lexa knew that Clarke suspected the answer. The daughter of the world’s most influential man was being forward towards her. “You speak passionately about art, so I wanted to hear more.” A blush arose on Clarke’s cheeks. “Passion is a good look on you, Clarke.”

With that she left the blonde in her wake and joined the other world leaders in their tour of the museum.

\---

Lexa had a massive headache when she finally left the conference rooms. It had been an uphill battle from the first minute. The first topic of the summit was Nuclear disarmament, something she stood for personally. The problem was, that Germany did not have many nuclear missiles, so leading the conversation was difficult for her.

The other leaders also pulled no punches. She was first challenged on her age. Then her gender, something that they had not dared to do with her predecessor. Finally, Saudi Arabia even brought her sexuality as an argument against her position.

There were, of course, also substantial arguments that did have merit. The three main players were China, Russia and the US. All sides wanted different things. Neither side wanted to be the first to disarm, or lose prestige at home.  

Still, she managed to broker a deal after five hours of negotiations. Part of the deal was the headache that she had gotten. It was only the first day, but it also was the day that each of the leaders tested the water of the newcomers. She was one of these newcomers, but also the president of the US was tested.

Now she was having dinner in a large restaurant. The food was excellent French and Italian. However, the company was not. Clarke was seated with other aides somewhere far away on the other side of the room, and she was stuck the president of Turkey and Brazil, and prime minister of Japan. During the meeting, all three had attacked her for the reasons that had made her mad.

So she seethed silently, because politics was not on the menu this evening. Lexa could also feel that the other leaders were not happy with the arrangement. It took a glass of wine to break the ice, and they could discuss the organisation of the summit and the excellent food and drinks being served.

The first moment that it was no longer impolite to excuse oneself, she left to get some air. The night was pretty warm still, but Lexa knew that it was bound to cool down quickly here in the Netherlands. The balcony looked out over the heart of Amsterdam. She secretly prefered the city over Berlin, but that was one opinion that she couldn’t share with the media.

“Gutenabend, Kanzlerin.” The person Lexa had been sneaking glances to the whole evening was now standing right beside her. They weren’t touching, but either could lean half a degree and their arms would graze each other.

“Hello, Clarke.” She looked to her right and was surprised how close those blue eyes were. She looked her over quickly, eyes not lingering at any specific body part. Lexa almost succeeded, but she stumbled when she reached pink lips. “Call me Lexa.”

“First name basis with a world leader, that is a story to tell my future kids.”

“Your father is president, Clarke.”

“Oh. Yes, you’re right.” Afterwards, a silence settled over them both. It was not uncomfortable for Lexa. After the afternoon’s meeting, she welcomed silence. Together, they watched people walking along the canals, cyclists agilely slaloming around the pedestrians and tourists dodging those.

It was Clarke that broke the silence. “It’s so different from American cities.”

“It’s your first trip to Europe, right?”

“Yes.” Again, silence. Now less comfortable because Lexa wanted the girl to keep talking. But what could you ask when you already studied everything her intelligence service could find on the blue eyes beauty.

“Do you miss it? Africa?” Clarke seemed surprised at the sudden change of topic. But if she was surprised that Lexa had done her homework, the chancellor didn’t notice it.

Clarke twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Lexa almost reached out to do the same. “Well, I don’t miss most things. Like the living conditions, dirty toilets, cold showers - if there was a shower at all.”

Lexa had read that, before her stepfather joined the presidential race, Clarke had been part of a Doctors without Borders mission in famine struck Africa. When Clarke’s father had died, she was 22 and in med-school. She finished her degree and joined the international organisation to help refugees and people in developing countries. When her mother had remarried and her father started his candidacy four years later, Clarke had to return for her safety.

“I miss the satisfaction and the gratitude. You really learn to appreciate what we have, here, when you have seen the other end of the spectrum.”

“Were you mad at your mother?” Lexa surprised herself with the personal nature of the question. It had been well known that Marcus wanted to run for president when he made his relationship with Abby Griffin known. Clarke had not gone back to her home completely voluntarily.

“I- I was.” Clarke answered. “I really felt like I was doing something good for those people. And it felt like she was forcing me home. She knew what it meant, accepting Marcus’ proposal.”

Lexa had now turned her whole body towards Clarke. She studied her expression. There was a brief flash of anger, her eyes had narrowed and her nose scrunched up. Seconds later, it had all smoothed out. “The real reason I was out there was because I held my mother responsible for something she didn’t do. And looking at her reminded me of painful memories.”

“And now? Are those memories still painful?” Lexa had read about the accident. Abby and Jake Griffin were on the road to see Abby’s parents. A trucker had fallen asleep, Jake had steered Abby away from the truck, which saved her life, the truck had still plowed through the driver's side of the car.

“No.” Clarke shook her head, ruefully. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Lexa caught Clarke’s hand that was still nervously curling a single lock of hair. Blue eyes widened slightly as the bore into hers. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s alright.” Clarke stared back at the people below them. “Dad always wanted to visit Amsterdam. He wanted to visit the museums, walk the streets, and ride in a boat on the canals. Oh - and try the local brand of ‘coffee’.” Clarke laughed and Lexa joined in. “I suppose I’ll have to try one and tell him, if I may meet him again.”

“I had not pegged as a wild flower, Clarke.” Clarke laughed out loud this time.

“Despite your research, there is much you don’t know about me.” Clarke turned around to leave the balcony. Lexa grabbed her arm gently and brought her mouth to her ear.

“I did learn a thing or two tonight.” She felt Clarke shiver and she let her go. The blonde did not turn around as she left Lexa alone in her thoughts.

_What am I doing._

\---

The second day of the summit was more exhausting than the first. First a meeting about international efforts to increase cooperation on counter terrorism intelligence. Then a public conversation with France’s president about the future of Europe and how united the European nations were on the issues in the G20 summit. French president Dante Cage was a formidable verbal sparring partner, even though they only disagreed on minor issues.

She had a similar public discussion with the UK, which devolved basically into the journalists asking questions about the British exit of the EU, and what the road forwards was. The only thing Lexa could say that she regretted that the UK was no longer a part of the EU anymore, and that they would work together through different diplomatic means. Reiterating those two answers, with the words rearranged slightly every time, for half an hour was completely draining her motivation for the afternoon talks.

What also drained her motivation was the distinct lack of blonde bombshell. Today was a very busy day for her, and if she was lucky, she would see the blonde at the formal dinner this evening. Before then, she was wondering what Clarke was doing in the streets of Amsterdam. Maybe she was enjoying the local herbs and fungi.

The second topic of today was climate change. The Paris accord was back on the table, thanks  to the new US president signing it. There was also additional commitment from all the countries present, singing the Amsterdam Addendum. Lexa would call this another success, but one that the president of the US had spearheaded. The German Chancellor knew that this had gained him some votes for his re-election, if the electorate managed to remember this summit for the next three years.

Now, she was back in her room changing into the dress she was going to wear this evening. Being only thirty years old, made the choice for dress tricky. She was known as an advocate for equal rights for women and men, but she had been criticized by the group she thought she supported for wearing dresses that attenuated her body. She had also been targeted by newspapers trying to sell photos with headlines such as ‘buying results with bodily favors’.

Lexa was massaging her poor forehead when Anya burst into her hotel room. “Care to tell my why an aide for the US president is requesting your presence?” The accusation hung between them. Lexa had no idea, after leaving Clarke yesterday evening she had not heard or seen her. She hoped she hadn’t been too forward with the blonde.  

Lexa was still halfway through changing into a dress for the evening, and was standing half naked in the room. Dressing yourself with one hand was difficult, when the other was being used to ease the incessant beating in her mind. She had no shame in front of Anya, who had seen her in less than the lacy dark green bra, with matching string, she was wearing now. The color of her panties matched her eyes, and it was one of the sexiest pairs she had.

Anya took over the head massage, while Lexa finished dressing herself. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lexa.” She was used to this language from her best friend when it was just the two of them. It was refreshing from the other stiff interactions she had all day long.

“I don’t know. I did not speak with Clarke since this yesterday evening.”

Lexa looked herself over in the mirror. She wore a simple black dress which fit her form perfectly. It attenuated some of her womanly features, while not being provocative at all. The only piece of color she was wearing was a dark red shawl around her neck and shoulders.

“So, where am I requested to be? The suite of the president, or somewhere else?” One did not simply summon her, but at this time of the evening and with whatever was happening between her and Clarke. Lexa could not ignore her ally.

“The suite.”

She put on some black heels and made her way to the door.

“You’d better know what you’re doing.”

Lexa nodded to Anya and left the room. She walked across the empty hallways of the hotel. Well, empty because she hardly noticed the bodyguards standing on every corner. The entire hotel had been rented out and most rooms were empty.

Her heels clacked on the marble floor tiles. It was a beautiful hotel. High ceilings, wooden panels engraved with inshapes and inscriptions. Large paintings adorned the ceiling, depicting scenes from all kinds mythology and history. She recognised Hercules, Troy, the founding of Rome, the birth of Christ, and more.

When she reached the wing of the American delegation, she could just walk in without needed to provide identification. At the end of the hallway, she saw the door to the suite. As she passed one of the rooms, she suddenly felt someone grab her by the arm and pull her into a room.

Her self-defense classes and military training kicked in, and she threw off her attacker. Her assailant landed with a large ‘oompfh’ on their back, and Lexa went for the finishing punch to the throat. Then she saw blonde hair and blue fearful eyes and stopped before her fist connected.

“Scheiße, Clarke!” Lexa knew she sounded angry. The anger was just a manifestation of worry that she had hurt her. She held out her hand for the first daughter to grab and pulled her upright. “Are you okay?”

“This was a stupid idea.” The blonde girl looked at up at her and Lexa noticed how close their faces were. She felt Clarke’s breath on her cheek. Her blue eyes were big due to their closeness, and Lexa could make out the strands of color - blue and gray - inside the iris. Standing this close to her, the longer she looked in Clarke’s eyes, the bigger the pupils became until they almost consumed the blue iris. Lexa wondered if her eyes were the same.

A breath hitched, hers or Clarke’s. “Clarke - what are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke mimicked Lexa’s answer to Anya’s earlier question.

“This is a bad idea Clarke.”

“Yeah. We could be creating a major diplomatic incident.”

Still, neither of them moved. Clarke leaned forward just slightly, and the rise of Lexa’s chest caused hers to touch to Clarke’s. There was too much and too little space between them.

“We shouldn’t-”

“US-German relations are just recovering after your last president.” Lexa managed to squeeze out and needed to take a big gulp of air. Once again causing her chest to rise and stroke Clarke’s.

Neither of them dared to look away. She had seen only a brief glimpse of Clarke’s blue dress and Lexa wanted to take her beauty in. But in order to inspect the blonde, she would need to step backwards, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Lexa-” Her hear name being said with the raspy voice broke the stalemate. Lexa surged forward and captured the blonde’s lips. She heard a moan and her hands reacted of their own volition. One entangled itself in blonde hair, keeping the head to which they belonged in place, the other was brought around to the small of her back.

It took a second, and Lexa was worried she’d made a bigger mistake than she was already making, but Clarke kissed her back and her hands pulled on the rad shawl around her neck to keep her right there.

“Lexa-” Her name was said and not in protest but in request, in a command.

When they finally came back up for air, they had to take another minute to get their brains connected to their limbs again. Their bodies were still flush against each other. Lexa had apparently pressed Clarke against the door which she was pulled into. Clarke leaned her head against the door, and Lexa had snuggled into her shoulder. Her leg was pressed in between Clarke’s. She didn’t know when that had happened, but now she noticed it, she suddenly felt a heat on her upper thigh where she pressed into the blonde’s core.

“Has this ever-?” She heard Clarke say. The blonde squirmed and then moaned when she pressed harder against Lexa’s leg.

“N-no.” She responded with an uncharacteristically shaky voice. “I’m normally not- Anya says I’’m married to my country.”

Scheiße. She didn’t want to move. So she licked the neck she was snuggling. Because that was the logical thing to do in this situation. She wished she could say that Clarke tasted heavenly, but all the tasted was perfume.

Lexa made a ‘blegh’ noise and stepped back from Clarke, who whimpered at the loss of contact. The German chancellor inspected the damage. The flush cheeks and labored breathing would fix itself. The disheveled hair was another issue. The wrinkled dress was a third problem.

Despite all that, Lexa could not make herself feel guilty.

“We really shouldn’t…” She offered weakly, but offered no resistance when Clarke attacked.

\---

Lexa felt half her age when she entered the restaurant. She had that feeling when you do something you shouldn’t, and the evidence of your actions is pinned on your forehead for everyone to see but you.

The atmosphere was good. She saw president’s and their significant others mingle and mix. Other delegation members were also allowed to move around with relative freedom. But as she entered the room, everyone was more or less settling down at their designated tables.

There were a few dozen tables in the room. Each was oval shaped and draped with a white tablecloth. Large chandeliers with real candles burnt, but the room was still lit by normal lamps. Lexa looked at the seating arrangements - and of course she would be sitting at that the one table she didn’t want.

Her eyes zeroed in on the target that she had already spotted the moment she stepped in the room. Clarke had left and entered the dining room long before her, joining her parents table. She was looking at her with apologetic eyes, which showed a bit of fear and anxiety. Lexa wondered why she was so good at reading someone she had met just three days ago.

Together with Clarke at the table were her father and mother and Anya. Her friend needed just one look at her slightly flushed cheeks and plump lips. She looked back and forth between her and Clarke exactly once, and looked at me with her mouth just slightly opened in disbelief.

“Good evening, Mr. President, Ma’am, Miss Griffin.” She shook the hands of every single one as she said their names.

“Your dress is lovely.” Abby said. Lexa looked down and could still see Clarke’s hands on her.

“Thank you.” Lexa complemented Abby’s dress and Marcus’ suit. “But your daughter steals the show tonight.” The president and his wife laughed, but Clarke blushed fiercely. Lexa felt someone pinch her thigh under the table, which could only be reached by Anya.

The first course had arrived and Lexa managed to get through unscathed. “Lexa, I heard that your family is old nobility? We don’t really have that in the United States.”

Lexa’s mood turned a bit sour. Her family was always a sore point, but not many people knew that. She saw Clarke pick up on her mood right away. “My family was one of the minor noble Prussian houses.” She explained. “We distinguished ourselves based on the longevity of our house, while other houses perished we remained.”

“And was your family part of the Deutscher Orden? When our daughter was little she played a video game with my late husband and was fascinated by them, weren’t you Clarke?.” Lexa through a quick look at Clarke, who had become embarrassed.

“Age of Empires?” Lexa asked and she saw Clarke peak up at the name of the old game. “I was young once, too. But yes, every generation has been part of the Teutonic Order in some way. Though in the later years it was more symbolic and charity work. We do still have a lot of artifacts.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Clarke listen very carefully. Lexa almost invited her to come join her on her family’s estate, but she held her mouth closed.

“Fascinating.” Marcus said, and he wasn’t condescending at all. “Has it brought you any advantage on the political landscape? I imagine that old noble houses are very politically active.”

She swallowed and clenched her fist before answering. It wasn’t Marcus’ fault for asking, but her history with the nobility, including her own family, was not good. “I broke a few rules and traditions when I turned into politics. I lost the old blood vote, but gained support from a new group of voters. The nobility, by definition and necessity, is very conservative. On all views on the political landscape. They fear change.”

“Did you fear the change?” Clarke asked.

“I did.” Lexa answered, turning her full attention to Clarke. “But not in the same way. I feared what it would cost me, and if I could bring the change.”

Anya was watching the exchange with hawk’s eyes. Lexa felt them pricking in her skin. Anya stayed silent, she never was very outspoken, and now she was in the presence of a president and his family.

“Clarke has noticed your vested interests in many social progressive issues.” Lexa looked at Clarke. “That is why she wanted to come so badly.” Lexa swallowed, thinking back at just now in that hotel room. She saw Clarke squirm in her seat as well, her pupils slightly dilated.

“Y-yes.” Clarke said, knowing it was her cue to speak up. “I’m an advocate for women’s health all over the world, with special interest for women in Africa.”

“I have read about your work as a doctor in those areas of the world. Very admirable.” She said conversationally as they had already discussed this topic last night.

“Thanks. Anyway- when I- you know, when I heard you were coming- going to be here.” Both of their eyes widened slightly. “And that you would be joining a discussion on these issues, I wanted to join in.”

Marcus laughed and decided to give some more information. “What she isn’t telling you, is that upon reading about the talk coming up tomorrow, she obtained herself an invitation and a mention on the official roster. We could not deny her.”

Lexa looked at Clarke sharply who not meeting her eyes. She felt between flattered and used. Clarke had done her research as well, and even long before Lexa knew that Clarke existed. It very much seemed that Clarke had come here with just a single goal in mind: to impress her. The well practiced German sentence matched perfectly to this hypothesis. For now, Lexa decided she was impressed. “Well, in that case I look forward to our discussion tomorrow.”

She saw Clarke let go of a long breath.

\---

As the Chancellor of Germany, and part of a noble family that was stuck 100 years in the past, Lexa had sat through some arduous dinners. None were as big of a minefield as this one. She finally managed to say goodbye to the US President and his family at ten o’clock. Tomorrow’s topic would be cyber security, not something she was well versed in, and it would start at nine.

Once in the room, she sat down on her bed and waited for the inevitable onslaught.

“ _Was hast du getan?!”_ Anya shouted at her the moment the door fell closed behind her. She was pacing around, steam was figuratively coming out of her ears. “If anyone learns about this. It could be the biggest diplomatic disaster our country has known. And we are known for not one, but two World Wars.”

Lexa swallowed. Her blonde haired friend, who was three years older than she was, was absolutely right. “What do you think we have done?”

“Sex. Fucking. Scissoring. Bumping uglies. Whatever you call it.”

Lexa thought back at the moment in the room. Clarke was taking the lead, kissing her passionately. Lexa’s hands roamed her body, and Clarke pressed herself down on her leg. She was moaning her name, when her hands brushed Clarke’s boobs, and suddenly the blonde’s legs clenched around hers.

“I don’t think it quite qualifies as that.” Lexa swallowed when she remembered what Clarke had done with her soaked panties. And that she didn’t have time to wear a new one. She thought of Clarke squirming in her seat at the table, pressing her legs together.

“... chances at the election. And you’re not even listening to me.” Anya’s tirade ended and Lexa missed the most of it. “What’s going on with you? Not once in the twenty years I’ve known you have you acted this way.”  

“I wish I knew.” She looked at her best friend with pleading eyes. “I have never even felt this way about someone before.” Anya pulled her into a hug. They both knew that being the leader of a country at the young age of thirty meant that personal sacrifices had to be made every single day. This meant that living a normal life wasn’t really possible, and therefore meeting someone that wasn’t prescreened, screened and postscreened was not possible.

“I’ve seen you talk with her a few times now.” Anya started tentatively. “Do you think she…”

“I think she’s also affected the same way I am.” Anya looked at her, and Lexa felt vulnerable under her gaze. Not as vulnerable as Clarke made her feel.

A series of knocks shook them awake and Lexa went to answer the door to her hotel room. Clarke bursted in, similar to what Anya had done. “I don’t want you to think that I have been planning this whole thing, because I have - shit - I mean, I have planned wanting to meet you. But you were so much- I don’t- it’s crazy, it’s been three days but I can’t get - get you of my -”

Lexa saw Clarke stare at Anya and Anya gape at Clarke. “Oh, hi.” She looked between Lexa and Anya. And Lexa only now noticed her state of undress, despite having answered the door like that. She had removed the dress only halfway, so her bra was getting some fresh air, while the dress was still stuck around her hips. “I- I can come back later.”

Lexa could hear the hurt and fear in Clarke’s voice and, before Clarke could bolt, grabbed her hand gently. “Stay.”

Anya, instead, bolted.

Lexa sat Clarke down on her bed. Clarke looked up and said to her. “It’s not what it seems like?” Their eyes connected, and Lexa did not need to explain. She pressed her lips to the blonde’s. Now she was gentle, soft and kind. There was a passion burning behind each of the kisses, but they stayed soft.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Lexa admitted.

“That scares you.” It wasn’t a question that Clarke asked, but Lexa still answered.

“Yes. I have always had a plan of attack. Ever since I left the Airforce at twenty, I had a plan to become active in politics. I made my plan to become the next chancellor when I was twenty five.”

Clarke swallowed.

“This is the first thing I’m doing that falls completely out of the plan. Any plan.” Lexa was still pressing soft kisses to Clarke’s skin. “And I can’t seem to stop.”

Clarke returned her kisses to the fullest. Lexa then felt her lips on the top lining of her bra, just above her breasts. She felt Clarke’s hands pull her dress further off, until it fell to the ground. When her hand slipped between her legs, she moaned at the touch. “Clarke-”

Her bra was deftly unclasped, and her breast and nipples stood erect. Soft lips wrapped around her left nipple, sucking gently at first but more firmly later. A tongue flicked against it. Clarke was exploring. There were different movements, different rhythms, all leading to different sensations. Lexa noticed that she wasn’t very experienced on how a different female body responded to touch. So Lexa became more vocal, when her nipple was pinched hardly, she moaned, when a tongue twisted around the other, she moaned harder.

Clarke pulled back slightly, now only playing with the hem of her string. she was now looking at Lexa with questions in her eyes. Lexa removed her panties and was now standing bare before the blonde. She lay down on her bed, and guided Clarke on top of her. Gently, she guided her hand between her folds. “Fuck me, Clarke.” She told the blonde forcefully.

When one digit entered her, she moaned. She moaned harder when it curled and hit the right spot. She moaned Clarke’s name hard when the second did the same. Soon her muscles gave in and she collapsed on bed. Clarke then continued her ministrations of her body elsewhere. Lexa now knew that she probably was her first woman, and for a strange reason that made her giddy.

“I have asked my father to let me tour Europe after the summit.” Lexa’s ears perked up, like the nipple currently being messily slobbered by the blonde in her bed.

“I was thinking that Berlin may be next.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woo- hope you liked it. 
> 
> I could have continued, and I almost wanted it to include the debate that Lexa would lead against or with Clarke. But I was not inspired about the contents for that debate and the end seemed kind of natural there.


End file.
